The Final Cut
It was a long night, I was driving away from London in my Volkswagen Beetle. It was a very long journey. It was 2:30 in the morning. I was meeting an old friend of mine near Battersea. I served with him during World War 2, hmm...I still have nightmares. The Doctors diagnosed me with PTSD, but I don't want to go into that. I was driving down the road when I started to change the radio. I heard a few words coming from it. "Today they announced plans of building a fallout shelter in Peterborough in Cambridge." I switched the channel. "Three HIgh Court Judges have cleared the way." Again changing it. "It was announced today that a replacement for the Atlantic Conveyor, the container ship lost in the Falklands Conflict. Would be built in Japan, a spokesman for..." I changed it one last time; if it wasn't good then I would switch it off. "Moving in..They say Third World Countries like Bolivia, which produce the drug are suffering from massive..." Off. I looked down the lonely road and saw a bridge. There was a person on it, dressed in a Navy Uniform. I looked up and saw him, and stopped the car. He could have jumped. Like a woman, the breaks locked. And I ran up to the bridge, to tell him. "DON'T YOU HAVE TOO MUCH TO RISK." I looked up, a graffiti saying the words. 'GO ON MAGGIE' where on the bottom of the bridge. A women stood where the man should have been, she started to chew her bubble gum and winked at me, smiling. I looked away for a second, and looked back. Gone. Nobody was on that bridge. I got back into my car. Returning home, I saw my wife knitting me a jumper. How sweet. I sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV. I turned on the TV. I saw some pictures of battleships and some fighting going on in the Falklands. I could start to feel my flashbacks coming on. I could hear my friends dying on that hill. A mortar blew up and I was stranded. I tried to crawl for help. Another mortar blew up and all I seen was my best friend on the ground, I tried to help him. I could see that his arms and legs were blown off. I tried to give him first aid, but I was shot in the arm. I sprang back to reality, I went into the kitchen for a beer. I could feel a tingling feeling as if I was being watched. I looked behind me, a shadow. I tried to open up the bag, and pulled out my beer. I grabbed the beer opener and I drank slowly. The Shadow was gone. I looked outside, and I could see the woman who was on the bridge walking past my house. I took a deep breath, I walked out to the box and pulled out my 357 Magnum I had in the war. I looked at it, it was clean. It was loaded too, six bullets in the chamber. I looked back, as if I was going to shoot something. But I placed the magnum back into my bag and took a sip of my beer. I walked back out into the kitchen and saw my picture, it was when I was in the Navy. The Picture looked strikingly like the person standing on the bridge. Nah, couldn't have been me. I looked back at the TV, picking up te newspaper. And I kept reading. I could feel something when I was sleeping. I heard a knock on the door, and I found a small letter on the floor. I took it up and read it, it was an address. Would I follow it, or just sleep. I was too curious to sleep anyway. I hugged my wife, and walked out. Getting into my car, I kept driving. There was something in the back seat. ', Igirisu no sukamu o teishi shimasu.' I knew that as, 'Stop British Scum'. I looked back, and saw this Japanese Soldier with a fully loaded Arisaka pointed in my general direction. "Shinu made no jikan" I knew that as time to die. With one shot I was dead before I fell. It was just a dream, I was still driving on my way to the address. It was 2:00 AM. I looked up at the building, it was a power plant. I could see some men walking inside, looking as if they were going to do something drastic. I followed them in, and they were doing some shady actions. They walked in and opened up the clock, and punched themselves in with overtime. I could see this Japanese Boy walk in too. They played Poker, noticing the Boy. But they ignored him. He walked past them, noticing their shady plans. The women from the bridge was also there. And this man who looked like my friend. I could see the boy was in danger, in such a place like this. People welding and using very dangerous machines. I could hear them complaining about Japan and how it has better Industry than Brittan. I walked past them, not noticing me. And I followed the boy, trying to stop him before he got hurt. We got split up and I saw the Security guard. A woman entered and bent down. I looked up at him, and then down through the window. Oh my god, I ran trying to find him. The boy was on catwalk. 'Don't jump!' I shook my head, and he fell down. He fell, blood all over my jacket. I was scared, I could hear words. 'Cover, suppressive fire. Heal him!' I spawned back into my horrible nightmare. I was in the foxhole, my best friend was dead. The Officer captured some spies, I was forced to shoot them. One of the spies was a 10 year-old boy. He looked like the boy from the factory, I couldn't have not followed my orders. Or I would have been shot, and I couldn't just shoot the other two and leave the boy. So I was forced to carry out my obligations, and I shot them. The man went first, the boy was covered in blood and tears. I shot his other friend, and he was in a bad state. He then pleaded to let him go. I then placed the rifle on his head, and I made a mess. I was so sorry, I couldn't have stopped it. I awoke in my car. I was so angry. I drove back home, but I saw this place. The Fletcher Memorial Home. The letter was on the dashboard, and I looked at the address. The Fletcher Memorial Home, I got out of the car. I walked up to this home, and I walked in. With my 357 in hand. Screams would follow, and I was so scared. Who would I meet in this oppressive place. A evil doer, a devil. A memory from my old past. Was this some kind of game. I walked up to this house, and went behind it. I could see some Political Figures. Maggie, Breznev, MCarthy. Nixon, Winston. A few others. I realized that politics was just a TV show. I walked out, and I pulled out my gun, and I attempted to fire my rounds into them. I then walked into see these two men on chairs. One looked like some person I think he was in a band, and another was a therapist. I shot the therapist, thinking he was the mastermind behind all of this. My time of clarity was over, I awoke. A figure at the end of my bed, a few to be exact. They looked liked the moments from my past. The women, the man, the child, the politcal figures. They all taunted me. I was so alone, and I looked up to the ceiling. Before my eyesight grew dark, my heart exploded. And I was dead. Category:Mindfuck Category:Creepypasta Category:Creepypastas Category:Sequel Category:Music